If he over-extended tenor or vehicle there, I simply didn’t catch it. 2009’s The Hazards of Love was a pitch-perfect concept album equal parts Anne Briggs folk and Edmund Spenser magick. From the early Kill Rock Stars releases through to their 2006 breakout disc for Capitol, The Crane Wife, Meloy’s lyrics had become less concatenation of literary heroes and more genuine absorption of them within his own voice. Likewise, I’ve heard the same with The Decemberists’ discog. Sticking with those cover records though, the following year’s Shirley Collins encomium was a better, more thoughtful rendering by Colin Meloy Sings Sam Cooke, the former’s earnestness made for a truly great tribute. The blows often get low, but because those throwing them are typically more bookish than your average 2.0 troll, he’s gotten plenty pithy barbs like “Great Books snob,” “Huckelberry huckster,” or my favorite, “little Lord Fauntleroy.” And while I, myself, haven’t always cared for everything Meloy’s done- Colin Meloy Sings Morrissey was surely a guilty plea in 2005-I’ve never really questioned his intentions. And as frontman for The Decemberists, indie rock’s most well-read band, he’s been forever flogged for it. Colin Meloy always has fancied himself an author.
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